


Nameless

by vesuviannights



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M, GN Reader, M/M, Master/Pet, Mild dom/sub vibes, Monsterfucking, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Praise, blindfolding, gender neutral reader, mild dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:54:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21544087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vesuviannights/pseuds/vesuviannights
Summary: After some questionable choices, you find yourself confined to the Devil and his realm for an eternity. He plans to use that time well.
Relationships: Devil/Apprentice, Devil/Reader, The Devil/Apprentice, The Devil/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 239





	Nameless

Somehow, after a slew of bad decisions and questionable magical practices, you had ended up _here_. 

On your knees. 

Crawling. 

Whining. 

The Devil’s Plaything. Bound to his realm, to him, for an eternity you might never comprehend.

And in your time in his realm he had taken many things from you, though never without permission, and always with care, with patience, with the promise of something better. 

Your virginity. Your worries. Your magical abilities. Your choices. Your name.

 _Pet_. You were just _Pet_ now, a word that made you shiver under its weight some days, and your knees crumple with need on others.

“P- _please_ , please, I can’t do it—” You press your forehead into the warm stone beneath you, joints shaking as you press yourself up onto your hands and knees. “I can’t come anymore, I can’t—”

A chuckle sounds from behind you, so close and yet so far, you can never quite tell where he is when you play like this. When he blindfolds you and lets you guess at what he’s doing next.

“Oh Pet,” he laughs. “Do you not think I can see that smirk at the corner of your lips? The way your hips tilt up even as you beg for it to stop?”

You whine again, your hips mimicking his words as he speaks. 

When he doesn’t respond, when you don’t feel his breath or his claws anywhere on or near you, you begin to crawl. Your limbs are shaking, palms and knees scraping on the cobble as you try to free yourself from him.

You don’t know how far you make it before a hand closes around your ankle, and your entire body freezes.

“ _No_ ,” you moan quietly, the sound drawn out in your throat as his grip tightens. “ _No_ , not again, not again—”

A claw snakes between your thighs, slick with your own repeated release, the tips of his nails grazing along your most sensitive areas.

“Oh but pet, I thought this is what you wanted?” He croons. You feel his hot breath curl around your ear, a promise of every delicious and torturous moment to come. “Weren’t you begging me just yesterday with tears in your pretty little eyes? To come, to scream, to be allowed to move against my cock while you warmed it?”

You nod, an impatient and almost bratty noise bubbling in your chest as you feel your orgasm already beginning to build. 

You had lost count of how many he had given you. He had woken you so many times, fed you more energy, eased the tension from your limbs so he could give you more and more. 

You could come for eternity, always ready for more, always begging for it: all the perks and punishment of being the Devil’s lover, of allowing him to take you into his realm.

With a sharp pull at your ankle, you collapse back onto your stomach and straight onto his waiting hand. 

“That’s it, pet,” he murmurs. “Grind against my hand, make yourself come again—I want to see you cross-eyed and drooling with your desperation. Can you give me that, pet? Can you show me how much you love it?”

You think you nod, fingertips curling against the ground as you simultaneously try to stretch yourself out against him and pull yourself away.

He makes you come within moments, your body always on edge, always ready for another orgasm while your mind struggles to keep up with them.

You come, shaking and shivering and with quiet whimpers, throat too hoarse for anything louder. 

Your hips are rocking into his hand, desperate for more of his touch, the thrill of his pointed claws; the torture of yet another orgasm rocking your overstimulated body is nothing compared to the constant, heady arousal flooding through your body, demanding to be fed even through the torture.

When it all starts to fade, almost as quickly as it pulled you in, you feel him above you. Hot breath curls over your shoulder as he cages you in, the thick warmth of his monstrous cock resting against the curve of your ass. 

“What a beautiful orgasm,” he praises you. His claws rake through your hair, making you purr and murmur. “But you still owe me many more, my dearest. So many more.”

You whine at his words, but despite the shiver that races down your spine, and the dryness of your throat, and the voice in your head screaming for the kind of release he will never allow, you tilt your hips up toward him.

And then he purrs before releasing your ankle, allowing you to rise to your hands and knees begin your desperate, shaking crawl away from him once more.


End file.
